"Dammit Eric!" I shouted down the hall after him as he walked away chuckling with his friends. Quite amused at having swatted my textbooks out of my hands and onto the floor. "You're three kinds of a royal ass!"

"Three kinds?" He spun around with blue eyes wide. His close cropped blonde hair making them seem even more stark. "I didn't know there were so many!"

He oozed honey as he feigned deep interest. "Pray tell, what are the other two?"

"You're not worth my time!" I shrieked more to remind himself then me. I reached to slam my locker closed and when I did I found him standing against my shoulder where my locker door had been. His thick arms crossed over his black t-shirt and chewing whatever mint gum he always had in his mouth.

"I liked you better when you were a sweet little kid." I hissed at him.

"I like you better now that you have those sweet tits." He eyed them from one to the other, straining against my small white tank top.

"Do you ever say anything appropriate?"

"I might if you just fucked me and got it over with." He bit his bit of gum and grinned unabashedly, bearing perfect white teeth.

Like a dog ready to bite.

"You want to so bad I can practically feel the heat coming off you." He pointed one finger to my pelvis to emphasize where he thought this so-called heat was emanating from.

"No, Eric. The only heat you're getting is the fires of hell trying to call you home.

"Oh?" He blinked in pretend affront. "Why, Allie, how could you say something like that?"

I was leaning over and picking up my textbooks to stack in my arms but I stood up straight.

Giving him my evilest eye. "Don't call me that!"

"What?" He blinked innocently.

"Eric, don't!" I could already see the mischief written over that perfectly bad face.

"Don't what?" He lurched off the locker to lean down in my face "Call you My Little Allie Kat?"

"You don't get to call me that anymore!"

He smirked. "I believe I just did."

***

I leaned over to pick up more textbooks. Hell bent on ignoring his very presence. Demonic wretch.

But I felt a slight touch in my hair and saw his tight blue jeans walking off in my peripheral.

He must've brushed it as he walked away.

I got the last of my textbooks stacked in my arms and straightened. Feeling a chunk of my hair hit my forehead, seeming heavier than usual. My eyes slid up as my stomach sunk and I caught the familiar whiff of mint.

No. He didn't.

But as I reached up with a free hand to catch it I pulled it away from my forehead and swore.

Of course, he had.

"Damn you, Eric!" I shouted down the hallway. "Have I ever told you how much I hate you!"

"Once or twice." He waved over his shoulder without looking back.

I could hear him laughing with his leather-coat buddies as they rounded the corner. Even over the din of everyone muttering to their friends and slamming lockers.

Revenge will be mine.

***

I got home and glowered when I saw the sleek orange Camaro in the driveway. I thought about kicking it on the way by, but knew there'd be hell to pay if I did.

Still considering it I stood in the driveway. Hating the car as much as its driver.

"Come in Allison." My mom called. "We're all waiting for you for dinner."

"I'm not hungry." I snapped. Stalking through the inner door and toward the stairs.

"How'd chess club go?" My mom's new boyfriend called to me.

"Yes, how'd chess club go." I recognized Eric's voice feigning that honeyed sweetness without ever seeing him.

Grunting I headed up the stairs. Intent on completely evading his presence tonight.

"Eric, Honey," I heard my mom saying. "Can you take her up a plate."

"Of course, Jess." He probably smiled and bowed.

The embodiment of politeness.

Around them.

They thought he was an angel.

Despite that he's covered in tattooes and half his wardrobe is black or leather.

"Ugh." I called. Dropping my stuff on my bed. "I'll come down!"

I certainly don't want him coming up. I tried to keep Eric as far from my room as possible at all times.

My one sanctuary. I turned toward my doorway and spotted him standing in the doorway with a plate on one hand.

Like a damn waitress.

"Too late." He grinned maliciously.